Rebel, sweetheart
by AutumnDynasty
Summary: [Series of short vignettes] There are ways a destined hero is meant to think meant to behave. But Jak's never been one to follow expectations.
1. Days of Wonder

I haven't written for Jak&Dax for a while. In fact I haven't written anything in a while. So I'm sorry if this is a little rough around the edges.

This is my latest set of oneshots (as they seem to be all I can write these days). Decided to base them on a random music album. I chose 'Rebel, Sweetheart' by the Wallflowers, so each of the titles of these drabbles will be song titles from that album. There'll be 7 in all, so I hope you enjoy them..

**

* * *

**_**  
Days of Wonder**_

Jak slammed his empty mug back down onto the grimy table and stood up. Daxter looked up from where he'd been picking at a mysterious stain on his trousers.

"We're off?" he asked before glancing folornly at his own half-finished drink. "But what about.."

"It's getting light, Dax. I need sleep if we're gonna take up that challenge later." Daxter jumped onto Jak's shoulder and pulled a face.

"Well I guess I don't wanna become an Ottsel pancake. Kleiver'll prob'ly feel like Ottsel sandwiches again." Jak grinned sardonically. Outside, the dawn light filtered through the grey clouds and onto the grey streets. Kras City only came alive at night, with the neon signs and shouting of fights and growling of cars with glaring headlights. Jak paused on the street. There was only an empty space where his car had been. Ah well. It had been stolen in the first place.

"What comes around goes around," he muttered.

"Argh, now we gotta walk. I hate this city," Dax smacked a paw on Jak's shoulder pad. It wasn't like he would walk anywhere anyway, riding on his friend's shoulder, but there was still the principle of it all. Jak rolled his eyes. His patience was wearing thin and it wasn't even mid-morning.

"Fine then. You stay here. Finish your drink. I'll come back for you when I find another vehicle," he said. The ottsel grinned and hopped back into the bar as Jak trudged off down the street irritably.

Jak didn't hurry in his search. He didn't even try very hard. Decent race cars were almost impossible to come by around the city until evening. So the man sat perched on a traffic sign that spanned across above the road, staring at nothing in particular. How long had it been since he came to Kras? Not long. How long since he had beocme a wastelander? A bit longer. How long since he had come to Haven City? A long time. Everything seemed to meld together into one big metal, sandy, harsh mass of time.

But when had it been? When? A few years. Maybe today was the anniversery of his rebirth. Even if it wasn't, when was his birthday? Jak couldn't remember and it probably didn't matter now. Might as well pick one. Might as well pick today. Today was the anniversery of the start of Jak's battle against himself and that was that. Time was bendable anyway; his presence in the future evidence of that. So today was the anniversery of his was against himself.

_Happy Birthday then_

The darkness laughed. It wasn't as loud as before.

_Why are you being so defensive? I'm only wishing...us..a happy birthday._

_Keep quiet. You're a bother._

"You're both a bother."

A few years of being dark before the light began to pierce that darkness. And yet even with light, there would always been shadows. Always. Perhaps one day it would be the death of him. Flying so high on spidery white wings, only to be torn down by sharp purple claws that screeched a demand for violence. All very metaphorical and not something Jak wanted to bother with, destiny or not.

_That's right. Ignore us and we'll go away._

The darkness continued to laugh quietly to itself and the light said nothing. At least that was one thing to be thankful for. Conscience be damned. Jak leapt down from the sign and off again along the streets. A car needed to be found and a race needed to be won and an ottsel would need to be saved from whatever mess he had no doubt got himself into again. This was no time to be worrying about gods and spirits.


	2. Beautiful Side of Somewhere

I should mention before this continues, that this is, as stated in the summary, a series of vignettes. It isn't one story in itself, though each of the parts I write could be seen as being in the same...'verse'. They won't be in chronological order either, just in the order I write them :D I'm glad you're liking them so far.

_**

* * *

**_  
_**Beautiful Side of Somewhere**_

In the end, Jak couldn't leave with the Precursors and when he sat alone in Damas's throne in the arena that night, he stared at the spot it had occupied and wondered why.

There were his friends, of course. They were asleep now, up in Damas's house (Not home. Never home anymore). His palace of sorts. Jak thinks about going there and going to sleep as well and forgetting about everything for a while longer. But there are some things that are harder to put behind you than others. Like his reason for being in Spargus and who was in Spargus and...Spargus. Something he couldn't let go of. The first place he could call home since Sandover. So much sand. How strange.

He still hadn't cried over his father's death. Jak wondered if he was even capable of tears anymore. He'd certainly cried enough during the first few months in Haven City. Perhaps he was too used to death by now to be sad about it. Leaving would have meant leaving Damas. Leaving his father's memory. But it was okay. He would be okay. He'd been okay before he'd found out and nothing had really changed all that much. If anything, discovering that he had a father had given an extra dimension to everything. Jak had no true memories of life before Sandover, but now he could imagine memories, at least.

Maybe he should have left. Then he wouldn't have had thoughts like this. But in the end, it was something Jak couldn't and wouldn't let go of. Damas was his father, Spargus was his home, he had friends once again. It made the moon shine all the brighter, but he wouldn't trade the sand in his boots and between his fingers for anything so obscure and indefinate.


	3. From the Bottom of my Heart

Here's the next part. Sorry it took so long, but life has been determined to distract me as much as possible. There could be quite a few spelling mistakes and such in this, but I think I caught most of them. I'm having to write in Wordpad (sob).

This one turned out a bit longer than I'd anticipated, which could be a good thing? In contrast to Jak's non-running away-ness, in this one he does a hell of a lot of it. I guess I'm just _exploring the character_. Yeah, that's it...

* * *

**_From the Bottom of my Heart_**

The flames continued to rise from the blackening wreck of the engine, scorching the sky with orange and red and black. Black like his mind. Black like he wished his heart was. Then perhaps he'd get used to it; leaving things behind. The smell of burning rubber that had at first irritated his senses like nothing else during his first days in Kras now faded into the background. The tires of the wreck in front of him were melting on the track, but it didn't matter. Nobody was trying to put it out, especially not him.

And there was no point. Jak knew Mizo was dead. Not quite cremated, but close enough. All that would be left when the fire died would be ashes, a skeleton of a vehicle and a blackened stinking mass of a man. A man. Nothing more and nothing less. Jakfelt a twinge of regret in the greyness of his heart. It didn't upset him as much as it used to; leaving something behind. He'd done it often enough now that doing so left only an empty, hollow feeling somewhere inside him.

Somewhere, the dark was laughing again. It loved to mock him, mock his humanity and mock his steady loss of it. It grew almost tiring to listen to. The same old tune of delight at destruction and misery. That in itself was worrying; destruction and misery, it seemed, had become constant companions of the grey warrior.

Jak was certainly getting used to walking away from things. He turned and walked back to the garage where his friends would be waiting. The flaming wreckage continued to spark and spit at the surroundings.

---

"I can't believe you managed to dent it this bad," Kiera sighed. "I'm gonna have to replace it. Not to mention the wheels. Again." The mechanic rolled her eyes at the ammount of damage. "And then there's the engi.." Jak cut her off mid-rant, pressing his lips tightly against hers. Kiera's eyes widened momentarily in surprise before they closed and she kissed back.

It as impulse. Defiance against whatever it was that was making him less human, more apathetic. When he laughed he wasn't that amused. If he shed tears, he wouldn't crying. Even as he explored her mouth with his tounge, it was with a detached feeling. Like the wind on his face in flight or skin giving way beneath purple claws, it wasn't him and yet it was his body that felt the sensation.

He had loved Kiera once. Perhaps. Nothing had really been that clear-cut. Nothing ever was with Jak. He wasn't the poetic sort, but sometimes he would imagine that any love he'd had for his mechanic and childhood friend had crumbled to ashes with the rest of his stronger emotions. A shame.

Jak bit Kiera's lip lightly and pulled away. He gave her a half smile in thanks and walked out of the garage more hastily than he'd entered. It was yet another thing that Jak had to walk away from, and it wouldn't be nearly as difficult as it should have been. He rubbed at the black oil staining his hands and smiled ruefully.

---

Jak wondered why he couldn't feel anything. Daxter had noticed something was up, but wisely he didn't say anything. That was how Jak wanted it but, sometimes, he would almost wish Daxter would ask him what was wrong and tell him what he was doing wrong. He wondered when it had begun, the apathy. When had he been screwed over just one time too many? When had he finally had enough? When, when, when?

Not that it really mattered. It had happened now and Jak was one to not think and just do. He'd been thinking too much lately. It was time to do something. But what?

That night, Daxter complained as loudly as he dared around Jak's strange mood. The car which had been almost fixed that day now a smouldering mess. Lingering small flames licked at the engine and seats. A box of matches lay discarded on the floor a short distance from it. Jak grinned at Daxter with a smile that barely reached his eyes.

"Let's get going" he said. Daxter blinked wide-eyed and nodded numbly. It was only a temporary goodbye. It was just one of those things you had to do. The pair turned and left the garage for what would be the last time in a long while. It wasn't running away if you walked. The goodbye note continued to smoulder in the approaching dawn. 


	4. Nearly Beloved

Wow, the second update in two days! I'm on a roll. Or rather...I'm currently in the middle of a light workload.

This one feels a little awkward. Maybe because I didn't really know where I was going with it. Ah well v.v This is one of my favourite Wallflowers songs by the way...

* * *

**_Nearly Beloved_**

"One, two, three...hey, come on! You've gotta go hide!" Daxter turned his head and rolled his wide eyes. Wide human eyes. Jak frowned and cocked his head in question.

He thought it would be best to humour everything until he figured out why he was suddenly back in Sandover and why Daxter was suddenly the human child he had once been. Daxter muttered something irritably under his breath and brought his hands back up to his eyes.

"Cos that's what you do in hide and seek. Duh," he added. "One, two.." Jak raised an eyebrow. Well it wouldn't hurt, he supposed. He wandered off down the familiar stepping stones to the beach. There was no need to hurry; he remembered Daxter had never been that good at counting and so he kept starting again and again. He found a rock jutting out near the Sentinals and ducked behind it on his haunches. A couple of seagulls crowed at eachother overhead, casting shadows on the bright sand. Jak found himself thinking of Spargus. So much sand. And yet...what was he doing here? It was the past...both his personally and the world's as a whole.

And why here? Why Sandover? It wasn't like Jak could remember all that much about it anymore. He just hadn't spared it much thought after everything that had happened since. Why hadn't it been Haven? Those...experiments that had eaten two years of his life and continued to gnaw away at his thoughts. And why not Spargus? Jak loosened the scarf around his neck slightly. He'd couldn't remember it being so warm in Sandover, but then, he supposed, he hadn't exactly worn a great deal of armour and weapons when he was younger.

"Geez, you always hide around here. You're useless at this game, Jak," a voice laughed from above. He looked up in surprise at Daxter, who stood on the rock with an expression of frustrated amusment on his face. Jak shrugged, but he couldn't keep the sheepish smile of his face. It had been a while since he'd had such an expression. It was...nice. To be in a situation that called for it, instead of a confident grin or dangerous smile. Daxter jumped down beside him and laughed.

"It's my turn now. Good luck!" he gave a cheeky grin and bounded off, not even waiting for Jak to close his eyes. The man looked down at the sand. He closed his eyes and sighed. "One, two, three..."

"...four," he muttered, his eyes darting open at the sound of his own voice. A roughly plastered ceiling swam into view, welcoming Jak back to the land of the probably-not-living-much-longer. Kras City. He sat up, Daxter sliding off his chest, where he'd been curled up dozing.

"...ugh? What's up now?" the ottsel moaned sleepily.

"Nothing, Dax. Go back to sleep." Jak rubbed at his eyes to wake up and lay back down to stare at the ceiling. A dream? How typical. But it had reminded him of something he'd almost forgotten. He tried to pull a sheepish smile, but it felt wrong, empty, fake.

It was meant for a different time and a different life. A time when he had a kid's adventures that ended by dinnertime and there was a home to go back to when it got dark.


	5. We're Already There

This would have been up sooner but FFNet decided it hated me. Lucky me? Aaaanyway thank you, you lovely, lovely reviewers! I feel somewhat loved...so here's the next part. Not a song I like all _that_ much, but it's still a good one. I honestly urge people to look up the lyrics and the music if they haven't already. So nifty...

Hopefully this one is a little less morbid? ;p I dunno, I just struggle to write happy things. This is as happy as I'll probably manage. next chapter should be up tomorrow, site permitting.

* * *

**_We're Already There_**

"I didn't realise we had a 'thing' in the first place" Jak snapped.

"What? How can you say that?" Kiera cried, incredulously. Jak gritted his teeth, though his face was kept carefully neutral. Where was Daxter to shoot his mouth off when you actually wanted him to?

He knew where Daxter was. Drinking and singing loudly with Tess in the Naughty Ottsel behind them. Over the low roar of hovercars and machines, he could just make out the off-key droning. Something about metalheads. Jak had retreated from the noise to sit on the curb outside, hoping for some peace and quiet. He glanced sidellong at Kiera. So much for that.

_She's going to cry _a part of him grinned. _Then perhaps she'll stop screeching._

_Stop it._

_I could stop it if you wanted…_

_Not that way. That's not what I meant and you know it._

There was a low growl and then silence. Kiera backed away at the gutteral noise, eyes wide. Jak realised to late that he'd vocalised the internal confilct and sighed in resignation.

"Why does everything have to be justified by a relationship?" he said. It wasn't really a question but it seemed to distract the girl. Kiera swallowed to regain her compsure.

"That's not it. …I just love you, Jak. That's justification enough right? My feelings?"

_What about my feelings? _he thought sardonically.

"…I see," he said eventually. Kiera's gaze snapped to his face.

"Is that all you've got to say?" she said. Jak pressed his lips together tightly. Obviously that had been the wrong thing to say. He opted for a hasty retreat.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"If you were, you wouldn't be saying that."

"What would I be saying?" Jak asked teresly, patience on it's last legs.

"You wouldn't say anything," she said simply. Jak raised an eyebrow. "You'd kiss me." Jak raised both eyebrows and Kiera pulled a slightly strained smile. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly in hopeful expectation.

Jak rolled his eyes. Kiera just didn't get it and he doubted she ever would. Love of the kind she longed for was something Jak hadn't afforded himself; hadn't wanted all that much either, truth be told. He understood camaraderie, friendship and, to some extent, family. Kiera could fit in those things. He was comfortable with how everything was and he'd thought she was too. But…love?

Jak put his hands on Kiera's shoulders and looked out at the city lights flickering out on the port. He'd fought so hard to end the conflict that seemed to follow him. Jak thought he'd succeeded, the battle was over with the death of Mizo. But here, below his hands, was another problem, another encounter to be overcome. Something he really didn't want to deal with at that moment.

And what was the quickest way to end a battle other than to lose?

Jak closed the distance between them with a resigned smile.


	6. God Says Nothing Back

Here's the next part, like I promised. The last part will be up tomorrow.

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed - makes me very happy. Now I feel almost guilty that I'm going back to the blood and the angst with this one, as well as kinda short. But...the last one is almost cheerful! Honest!

* * *

**_God Says Nothing Back_**

Jak pressed his fingers against the steel walls, fingers digging in a futile attempt to grip and hold himself up. The door slammed shut with a laugh and receding footsteps. His stomach heaved and dry chokes echoed around the enclosing walls. The poison wasn't in his stomach, it was in his blood and in his mind.

He used to play at being a hero with Daxter and sometimes Kiera. Just the three of them in a big villiage surrounded by the ocean and a forest. A little boy's playground. Jak was still a little boy. Despite all that had happened before, perhaps because of it, he could acknowledge that now. He couldn't get himself out of this prison any more than he could take back what had happened to Daxter.

There were some things you just had to come to terms with and this was one of them. Jak sank to the floor and fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. There was no use waiting for a hero; they really didn't exist, especially in this place, wherever it was.

Jak hadn't always been able to sleep so easily. The first few days and nights, the boy clawed at his own skin feverishly, clawing at the purple that he knew was just beneath the skin. And now….now he wasn't resigned to his fate so much as patient. He could last. He had to last. Wait for an opportunity and escape and kill. A thousand bodies would litter the ground around him, as blood red as their uniforms.

It was something to cling to at least, even if it was the darkness.


	7. How Far You've Come

Wow, we're at the last part! Thanks for all the support you guys have given me :D I love you all! Sooo...last part.

This was actually based on two songs 'All Things New Again' and 'How far you've come'. Quite cheerful songs compared to the rest on the album, all things considered. So this chapter had to be more cheerful. Blech. I had an idea of what I wanted to show here, but it just didn't come out quite right. My apologies.

Enjoy?

* * *

**_How Far You've Come_**

He could just refuse to do it. He could say 'No, I'm not going to stop Rayne, she can do all she wants with her crime ring. As she says, it's business. Her business.'

But that wouldn't seem quite right. That wouldn't be Jak.

_You get used to it._

But Jak wasn't really. Not when it mattered. He'd wanted to be a hero as a kid, and if something needed doing, he'd do it because noone else would. Now there were plenty of people to do it. Ashelin, torn, even Daxter and Kiera. They didn't need to rely on him anymore.

He could leave someone he hated to die but he couldn't help but follow them to the ends of the time and space to have that opportunity. It was certainly a strange paradox.

But not a pattern he necessarily had to folllow anymore. Rayne did not affect Spargus. She did not affect Haven. No longer did people hunt after Jak as he had hunted after them. These were new times and perhaps finally Jak could afford to lay down his gun and release the eco.

This was the ending of his adventures. But, staring out at the city, he couldn't bring himself to mind. He'd changed so much already, he could manage to change again if needs be.

And there was still so much to do.


End file.
